


finding morgiana

by maknaeline



Category: LOONA (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination Attempt(s), Dark Magic, Fingerfucking, Introspection, Lingerie, M/M, Political Alliances, Power Bottom Park Jimin, Sexual Slavery, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:43:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maknaeline/pseuds/maknaeline
Summary: “You’re not Scheherazade.”“That I’m not, Jungkookie.” Jimin raises one hand absently, as if admiring his rings in the light of the candles. They gleam, lighting up his face in greens and reds. “I am one among many. And that’s all I’ll ever be.”OR: Jimin is a slave to the Crown Prince. Jungkook is a warlord's discarded son. In the middle of a brewing civil war that could take down something more precious than royalty, their stars cross in time to collide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [euphoriae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphoriae/gifts).



> It's finally here! I was planning to make this 10k at most and then it evolved into some sort of monster. RIP. I hope my recipient likes it nonetheless. Many, many thanks to my beta and my friend for reading over it! And thanks most of all to my recipient, who gave me a ridiculous amount of leeway in writing this, and also the mods, who gave me permission to update this over time!
> 
> This was my prompt: 
> 
> New guard to the prince Jungkook falls in love with one of the prince's courtesans Jimin.
> 
> From the first time Jungkook sees Jimin, he is captivated by him. The prince notices Jungkook's interest and says that he could "borrow" Jimin which Jungkook declines bc he doesn't like the idea of "borrowing" a human being like they're property. The prince still has Jimin go to Jungkook and Jungkook is flustered when he opens the door and finds Jimin there, ready to sleep with him. Jungkook stops him and says that he never asked for Jimin, that was all the prince's doing and even tho Jimin tries, they don't have sex (for now wink wonk) but instead talk into the night. And it won't be the first night they spend together.

The curtains to these quarters are always pulled shut. The soldiers know better than to do more than send a cursory glance in their direction - the penalty is high. 

But Jimin - Jimin can look out. 

On sunnier days, he does. Watch the people at the gate, the maids impatient to get back to their homes during sick leave, the guards who either snooze or share lewd jokes, the soldiers who are constantly nervous to be in the presence of royalty or sending wistful looks in their direction. And sometimes, Jimin dreams. Wishes he was that soldier, with the penalty.

Sometimes he would watch things that caught his eye. A visiting official’s wife from another continent, with the strange mass of skirts that mopped the floor as she walked. That one carnivorous plant Vivi is attempting to grow in the courtyard, that snaps at every mosquito that flies past. The small lapdog that a scholar brought with him once, that escaped from his hands and went frolicking into the women’s common baths. And today -

Today, it is the new guard, and the scholar with him. Both army veterans. They’ve been here two days at best, but excitement within the walls of the fort is uncommon, and the rumours that buzz around them like gadflies are enough to arrest his attention. But there’s something more - something Jimin can’t put his finger on.

“He’s pretty. I’ll give you that,” Haseul says. She has her veil parted to a side today, her dark hair cascading down the other side of her face. The Prince will scold her when he sees she doesn’t have it pinned like the other court ladies, but she’ll get away with that - she’s a Favourite. “I do prefer the other one, though.”

Jimin can see why she prefers the scholar - they have never met, but Ambassador Kim’s name is known to most of the country by now. And he keeps good company. Jimin doesn’t know why his heart sings every time the soldier with Ambassador Kim comes closer, passing right under their window. His large doe eyes seek out the people watching, constantly alert, and Jimin jerks back in shock when he looks up, as if he knows someone is peeking from the concubine quarters. 

He’s been here for barely enough time for Jimin to catch his given name, but he smiles as radiantly as the Sun whenever the maids wave to him, and Jimin has seen him carry the laundry around for one of the older ones, only nodding when they thanked him profusely.

He has very nice arms, in that tunic of his, Sir Jeon does. That’s not a good enough excuse, but it’ll do.

“Mmm, arms.” Haseul nods wisely. “Of course. There was that beautiful soldier His Highness let me have a few months back. You should ask him.”

Jimin scoffs. “I’m not a Favourite, Haseul.”

“That’s Lady to you. At least in public,” she says, and grins. “You never know. We have to turn up tomorrow in court, after all.”

They don’t. It’s actually only necessary for the married princesses, but the married princesses are also lovers who couldn’t care less. His Highness the Crown Prince never comes to their rooms at night, and they prefer to keep the company of each other. Jimin doesn’t bother to correct Haseul, knowing that her presence is more accepted by the court, who care very little for the Prince’s actual wives beyond the treaties they signed to get them.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, considering we’ll all be behind the screen, anyway.” Jimin lets the curtain fall, wishing he could air out the room without people peeking in. The place reeks of incense, but the momentary taste of fresh air he got for a moment is exciting. Full of promises it can’t keep.

“Maybe that’s a good thing too,” Haseul says, ever the optimist. “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

Jimin snorts, and gets up, gingerly lifting his cloak with him. He wonders what it’s like, to be someone’s Favourite.

 

**finding morgiana - 1**

 

Jungkook’s (admittedly harsh) upbringing did not prepare him for the gaudy grandeur of the Crown Prince’s fort. 

There are tattered banners hanging from every wall in the castle. Namjoon says it's from two centuries back, and admires the craftsmanship. Jungkook focuses on how the brick underneath seems to crumble every time he sees it.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Namjoon hums. “His Highness is aware of the dangers.”

He snorts. “Sure.” One of the maids giggle at his stiff smile, and Jungkook thanks the Gods that they cannot always understand the swift turn of his dialect, even if they’re aware of the language of the South. Out here, two hundred miles away from the Capital, the Crown Prince sits, administering to a city district that worships the ground he walks on simply because of his quirky fairness in judgment, unaware of the trouble that brews among the countries beyond the West, and the rising unrest in the South over questioning the Regent’s decision to not crown him yet.

Or so he’s been told. Junghyun - the actual head of the Jeon family now - hasn’t met him in person, and Jungkook is not particularly prepared for the first court session of the month. He’s read all the letters he’s sent to Namjoon over the past few months and has been welcomed by him two days ago, but as a person the Crown Prince is a complete mystery to him. It’s a good thing Namjoon is with them. Working as a bridge between the tensions of the South and the East, Namjoon will oversee the proceedings, and write back to the district noble court in the South. Jungkook, on the other hand -

Well, he’s just a warlord’s brother. Not expendable enough to send into war, but expendable enough to be part of the royal guard. He’s not bitter, or anything. Some things are just facts. Some people are free to do what they want. Some aren’t.

(Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he might even believe it.)

“Listen,” Namjoon says. “I know it’s going to be hard, but remember to stay away from the maids. That’s where the gossip comes from - and if it gets back to His Highness, he won’t be pleased.”

“I don’t - I don’t sleep with anyone,” Jungkook says, a little outraged. “You know this, hyung.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Suit yourself. Don’t be surprised if the Prince tries to make you a gift later on. I hear his harem has quite the collection of beauties. Just stay away from his Favourites, if he has any.”

Jungkook frowns at him, and they speak of it no more until they reach the gates. Namjoon, aware that he might have offended him, requests him to accompany him to the marketplace, and Jungkook follows in silence. The city is built on three levels above the river delta that empties into the bay, walls of granite alternating with sunbaked bricks painted in colourful shades the more they descend into the quarters of the working class.

“Aristocrats truly have no colours in their lives,” Namjoon comments, eyeing the white buildings in the background when they reach the market. The fort towers in the distance, pink walls standing out among all the white. “No wonder they eat bland food too.”

Jungkook nearly laughs, before he remembers the pristine white walls of the Jeon household back home. “Um.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s not like you can stand spicy food either.”

“That was  _ mean _ , I’m from the South!” _We don't even have peppers there!_

“Which is exactly why you should be accustomed to spicy food. You still cry when we have extra peppers.” Namjoon squints into the distance and looks down at the rough map in his hand, ignoring Jungkook peeking over his shoulder. “It should be around here somewhere -”

Jungkook opens his mouth, and then tenses at the small figure that rushes past him, turning around abruptly at the faint scent of floral incense, intense enough that he can smell it through his mask. Floral incense with no flowers nearby?

“Go on ahead, Jungkook, I’ll catch up with you at the gates,” Namjoon is saying, but he barely registers it. He’s already moving forward, alert to the scent he’s caught. There’s a flash of a bright gold circle when the figure adjusts the hood on their head, and he frowns, pushing people away gently as he follows the cloaked figure into the narrow, rank alleyways. Down here in the lower quarters, where all the housing is temporary and brothels are a dime a dozen, hygiene is a privilege.

So what is that figure doing here - with the Crown Prince’s mark on their earring? 

Jungkook watches them run into another alley, before taking off to follow. He’s been trained to move quietly, but this person is more silent than anything he’s seen. One of the trained spies, perhaps? Jungkook has his fair share of bad experiences with those, especially up north. Wicked little things, their weapons - and they were often small to match. Cold-eyed and cold hearted. 

He shakes off his unease at encountering a potential one in the heart of the district market, and tails the stranger, never losing sight of them. The crowd thins as he runs, and Jungkook’s brain finally gets some exercise, keeping up with the winding twists and turns of the lower city. Whoever this stranger is, they know every nook and cranny of this place. Jungkook doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that their steps get quicker around each corner as well. He braces himself for impact as the figure disappears around the next one.

His suspicions are right. It’s a dead end. And the figure is right in front of him, weapon drawn and at the ready. The blade of a dagger is pointed towards him, the tip barely grazing his chin. Jungkook stops, motionless, to assess the danger. No one is in the dead end besides them, and the high walls in between do not indicate an ambush.

“Who are you?” the stranger demands, and despite the bell-like voice and the pretty face half concealed in shadow in the dark alley, Jungkook immediately knows it is a man. One of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen, even with the grime of the city leaving a trail on the stranger’s cheek. Jungkook is entranced, barely caring for the way dagger tries to tip his head up. 

“I’m a soldier,” he says, and the figure gasps, drawing the blade back. His entire posture changes, now stiff with fear and loathing. Jungkook isn’t sure what caused the change - did the soldiers have a bad reputation for forcing people in this quarter? - but then his eyes fall to the figure’s feet. They had been concealed by the cloak before, but in the hurry to shrink away, it had had moved aside.

There are golden braces on those pretty feet, intricately carved. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, snapping him out of his trance. Paired with the mark of the Crown Prince -

“You’re a Favourite,” Jungkook says. It’s not a question.

The figure blinks at him, and then laughs. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s not a nice laugh. It sends chills down his spine. This man, whoever he is, is dangerous. But what baffles him is something else. No one except the royal courtesans ever wear those braces on their feet - and the mark - is he missing something?.

“You’re a courtesan,” he tries. “I’m not here to attack you -”

The stranger scoffs, and backs into the wall. “Then why did you tail me here? I can tell when someone is on the prowl. I’m no fool.”

_ Because I thought you were stealing someone’s jewellery, _ Jungkook opts to not say. “I was curious about your earring.”

“You thought I was a thief.” Directly on point. Jungkook winces. “Now that you know I’m not, will you leave me alone, or do I have to make you?”

“How do I know you’re not - right. The braces.” Jungkook knows he’s digging himself deeper this time. “Are you sure you don’t want an escort back to the palace?”

The glare the courtesan aims at him could cut glass, his arms crossed. “What do you think?”

“But -” Jungkook stumbles over his words. “The alleys here aren’t...safe.”

The courtesan rolls his eyes. “And you are?”

“I try.”

Jungkook considers digging himself a grave in that grimey dead end right there. It would probably be less humiliating than accidentally flirting with a Favourite - because he is entirely unconvinced this man isn’t one.

“...I’ll pass,” he says, giving Jungkook a judgmental look. “You should make your way back to the palace, before you forget where you are.”

“Can’t you show me there?”

“I’d assume you wouldn’t need an escort, seeing as you just offered to be mine.” The cold smile aimed in his direction is more freezing than a South wind in midwinter. “Thank you for the offer, nonetheless.”

And then - before Jungkook can blink - the stranger presses back on the wall, and disappears behind it. There isn’t a trace of him left, barely even a footprint, which is a feat given the mud tracked into this dead end. Jungkook doesn’t bother to check. He knows magic when he sees it.

“Got to get him to teach me how to do that,” he mutters. It would make sinking into the floor the next time he made a fool of himself easier.

The sun is high, blazing down on the white aristocrat quarters when he finds his way back. Namjoon is at the gates, and he looks annoyed, despite the scrolls tucked under his arm and poking out of his bag. Jungkook guesses he’s been waiting for a while now.

“Where were you?” Namjoon asks, irritated. “I’ve been looking everywhere - Jungkook, where are you going?”

“Nothing,” he says vaguely, staring back at the market before he walks up to the gates, still looking back when it swings shut behind them. He wonders if the courtesan knows a way to sneak into the palace. “Can we have double the security on the gates, today? I have a bad feeling.”

“You’re the assigned Royal Guard, not me,” Namjoon replies.  He looks curious, but Jungkook doesn’t care. Something is going on, and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

***

The processing of the letter takes less than two minutes. Sneaking back isn’t hard either, what with all the security at the gates instead of milling around the gardens. Jimin knows he would’ve had a much, much smoother day if not for the stupid, idiotic soldier who tailed him all the way into the dead end. He’d been forced to use magic.  _ Magic.  _ Jimin has no idea if the Southern-accented nincompoop has any idea what that means here, but he doesn’t plan on running into him again.

Haseul scolds him when he arrives, as soon as she sees the mud caked on his feet. “Jimin, it’s been two hours! Did you sneak out again? I told you it was dangerous!”

“All the guards are at the gate,” he says dismissively. “They’re not allowed in these quarters for a reason. Do I have time to change?”

“Yes, but  _ quickly _ .” She shoves him back in the direction of the baths. “Wash yourself first - we can fix the rest with perfumes. We have less than half an hour to get to court, and your little soldier is going to be there.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Jimin mumbles, but she doesn’t pay him attention. 

He thinks of those doe eyes in the district market, sweetly, maddeningly oblivious, and curses his own luck. He’s going to be in trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is unbeta-ed because I wanted to get it done w/ already BUT thank u sam...my bro...my girl...myself (for looking it over later in advance). also heejin is jk's sister. just putting that in.
> 
> new developments. the plot gets moving. and more complicated. also jk is horny. I'm so sorry.

 

**finding morgiana - 2**

 

Keeping what he saw today a secret isn’t hard, especially when Namjoon immediately starts to talk about the scrolls he had found in the market - and the fact that there were magic scrolls being sold openly. 

It’s  _ very  _ hard. 

Namjoon keeps on talking, however, especially about the ritual significance of blood magic and magical debts, and wasn’t it a good thing that mages weren’t an enormous presence in the East, because god knows what they could’ve done with them? 

“It’s blood magic scrolls we’ve got here,” he says, like Jungkook knows what he’s talking about. “There’s magic in everyone’s veins, you know that, so this - this pulls latent magic out. Fairly basic stuff, and of course it’s easy to smuggle some into dingy shops on the dockside before you ship it out to the Northern countries.” Namjoon waves his hand at the scroll he’s showing Jungkook. The Electricity rune tattoo on his hand gleams as he points out the words, Jungkook barely able to keep up with the flowing Runic script.  “Heck, I’m fairly sure I learned my first bits of magic from scrolls on the black market too.”

“So why is it special?” Jungkook says, to keep the conversation going. He jumps a little at the beautiful flowering plant that stands at the same height as him, looking vaguely menacing. If he’s not wrong, this is the maneater plant the soldiers had cautioned him about. He casually moves them both in a different direction, aware that Namjoon’s luck would get some flesh bitten off.

“I’m surprised that it’s blood magic, Jungkook.” 

Namjoon pauses. There’s an expression on his face Jungkook can’t decipher, as he looks up at the palace. “Only war mages can use this sort of spells at all - not the benevolent kinds that you’d find a herbalist using or tricky luck spells that someone would cast to protect their crop from rain. That has...different connotations. Especially since my contact told me that these were being shipped out - not smuggled in.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to ask, his blood going cold. “Who’s hiding war mages in the city?”

Namjoon nods grimly, tapping the scroll he’s reading so the letters wipe out. “And why?”

They stop when the aristocrats start arriving, and Namjoon starts jotting details about them down as they enter. 

Jungkook can’t concentrate. His brain is still fine-tuned to recognize the incense from the morning, and none of it matches. There isn’t a trace of it on any of the aristocrats’ clothes, which means the spy can’t be living with them. No, the spy must be back in the quarters.

He considers going back to the South. He can handle assassins. A spy is a different thing altogether, - a backstabber instead of an enemy that attacks with honour, and it gives him so much anxiety than his hands start to twitch. War mages. War mages. He needs to concentrate. He needs to do his fucking job.

There are war mages involved. The court is in session - and any of them could be one.

Jungkook breathes, and steels himself for the politics.

The courtiers are stuffy. Jungkook decides this as soon as he walks in, without even having to talk to any of them. There’s the oldest in the corner, looking very much like he would rather be at home, but gaze trained on the screen meant for the harem. Gross. Jungkook still isn’t sure how he feels about the concept of the royal harem at all, let alone the fact that older men would be ogling people his sister’s age the entire time. Namjoon doesn’t seem pleased either.

“Keep away from Lord Hong,” he says, in the most casual voice, when they’re still walking to their places.

Jungkook blinks. “Is he one of the aristocrats of the South?” He had never seen him at Southern annual council meetings before the war, so it seems quite impossible unless his brother had granted him a new tithe for some outstanding service to the State. Junghyun isn’t the type to be impressed so easily, either.

“Not at all. North-east.” Namjoon leaves it at that, as if Jungkook’s supposed to figure it out himself. He frowns. So far it was the South who had constantly probed at the goings-on in the East, about the flow of money and trade along the river Romana, about the rapid decrease of pollution in recent years but the spread of disease nonetheless. The Northern towns, with the tropical jungle in the North-west and canyon closing off trade to countries further north, had a vested interest in using the East Port, however - one boat ride across the Romana was all it took for most cargo to be delivered here. There were extra taxes in the West that they disliked - not to mention the rocky relationship after the treaty was signed with the west countries.

Jungkook can understand being wary of a greedy man - businessmen can be unscrupulous, after all - but Lord Hong’s exports have very little to do with the South and their agenda. So why would he…?

The announcer booms a name, and the trumpets play. Jungkook winces as the sound blasts across the courtroom, and a back door opens. His vision narrows in as the barely-veiled woman walks in, and sits behind the screen. Twenty more follow her, one after the other.

“Oh,” Namjoon exclaims softly. “There’s the foreign princesses.”

The two girls in question enter hand-in-hand, and sit off to the side of the screen, just a little away from the very obvious Favourite. One leans into the other and says something, and the taller one laughs. Their golden hair is striking amongst the brunettes behind and beside them. The only notable difference is that it’s left open compared to the tied hair of the courtesans.

“So they’re lovers?” Jungkook asks. It seems pretty obvious, the way one girl leans into the other.

“Apparently so. The Prince did them a kindness, in a way, by accepting both of them from different countries.” Namjoon shifts back into the Eastern dialect flawlessly, knowing the curious glances aimed at them. “I am eager to see the court proceedings of today, are you not?”

Jungkook is, but he has his own doubts now. He has caught sight of the lithe man in the brown, embroidered cloak, his hair now pinned up in a bun, and the man twists his lovely neck around to turn and check the people in the court, as if assessing threats. A spy - yes, definitely. There would be no reason to be this suspicious otherwise. But in the harem?

He doesn’t look away soon enough. The man catches sight of him, eyes widening from the narrow slits they had been while surveying the hall. 

Jungkook gulps. This is not how he wanted this particular reunion to go.

***

Jimin’s day keeps going from bad to worse. The soldier - Sir Jeon, whatever his given name is, Jimin doesn’t care anymore - keeps staring at him, until the girls behind him start tittering. 

“He won’t stop looking, huh?” Yeojin - the youngest - nudges him with her elbow slyly, and he rolls his eyes. 

Sure, he’s handsome. Jimin has been over this whole discussion in his head before. It’s not worth it when he’s seen him in his cloak, past his magic barrier. Whoever Sir Jeon is, he has experience with magic users - and it’s no wonder, especially since they’ve been in a war against professional mages. Jimin’s abilities are much more dormant, and someone immune to magical barriers could take him in a match easily.

Delivering letters for the Prince is going to be much harder than he’s thought - especially if the bloody fool tries to tail him the next time he goes out of the palace. Jimin has to start thinking of alternative routes - surely the Prince wouldn’t mind if he knocked out a soldier, but Jimin doubts that he’s going to be able to do it this time.

He bites his lips when the court session starts, with the florist from the market district complaining about the imported flowers across the river. The Prince listens to one complaint after another, nodding seriously and assigning people to work with them. At this - the highest level of the Eastern court - only the most serious matters are discussed. Most of the smaller complaints are handled by the aristocrats, who seem surprisingly efficient. Jimin hasn’t seen much evidence of corruption yet - there’s some of course, who seem much too calm about accusations hurled against them. The Prince being involved helps, however.

“Countess Anha,” the Prince says directly, after looking through the documents in an accusation of embezzlement. “These records don’t match.”

The Countess flushes in indignation, and bows. “I will have them looked at as soon as possible.”

“See that you do. I wouldn’t want to put the wrong person in prison.” The Prince smiles then, at the man cowering at her side, and he smiles back gratefully.

And this - this exactly is what is going to get him killed someday. Not his perceived naivete, but the fact that he never gives up on people. The Crown Prince doesn’t look at anyone like they’re particularly special when it comes to justice - and it scares them.

(It scares Jimin. How far does his love for the people go?)

“This concludes the session for today. Unless there’s more?” The Prince says. Yeojin has started to nod off to sleep on Jimin’s back, and he registers then that it has been four hours already. Court sessions are always longer than normal, but this one has been the longest so far. Perhaps it’s to impress their guests? Ambassador Kim hasn’t stopped taking notes for a minute, and the Prince himself seems more serious today - more focused on the cases and in between, instead of the listless way he had dealt with some of the more boring ones last week.

“There’s no more, Your Highness.” Lord Hong says, in a slow drawl. “I was hoping that there would be more of a performance, however - considering that we’re on display for our Southern guests today.”

The Prince looks up from the scroll in his hand, and raises an eyebrow. “I would not be opposed, but I doubt my Favourites are in any condition today after I subjected them to this trial.” He waves to the crowd. “Surely you can see they are tired too - it’s not every day that it runs this long.”

“Perhaps our good Western Swan can contribute? She is quite...expert with her hands, after all.” 

Lord Hong stares straight ahead, his yellowed teeth out in some bizarre form of a grin. Haseul’s own smile is frozen on her face, and Jimin bristles. “Lady Swan, let me -”

“Our guest prefers men, actually,” Ambassador Kim adds smoothly. Sir Jeon turns to him, eyes wide, face set in a deep blush. “Hyung!”

“ _ That _ should not be an issue.” Jimin’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes finding the Prince’s face in disbelief. “We have our Crown Jewel, after all.”

***

Jungkook cannot believe this is happening. This really cannot be happening. After this, he would really not be surprised if the man murdered him in his sleep. He probably deserves it for stealing that apple pie back when he was ten. Karma.

His sister would probably be laughing at him. If she could see him now -

The court is cleared out until only the officials are left along with the harem, and the carpet cleaned up quickly. Jungkook barely catches Namjoon’s eyes, which are trained on the Prince the whole time, like a puzzle he can’t figure out. Good thing too. Jungkook would like some answers.

To Jungkook’s great relief, the Jewel takes no notice of anyone in the crowd as he steps forward, discarding the dull cloak in another girl’s lap behind the screen, who gives him a thumbs up in turn. The tunic is glimmering silver, and his black skin-tight breeches reach up to his ankles - and the Swan is handing him a pair of fans. Oh. So this is the fan dance. The East specialty.

Another courtesan - a younger girl this time, hands them all fans. Jungkook stares down at his in confusion, but the rest take position and whisper excitedly amongst themselves. Namjoon declines his, saying he isn’t fond of such a brutal practice. Jungkook wants to ask him what he means, but the nobles in between block the way. 

The Swan motions to one of the wives, who nods and tells a servant to bring in a kayagum. She sits down with it, thanking her. The first notes ring out, and the Jewel takes his position. 

The music rises, and he starts to dance.

And Jungkook can’t look away. Everything else fades into the background except this courtesan with the fans. He turns his entire body into a component of the music - meant to be savoured one element at a time. Strands of his inky hair escaping his elaborate braided bun, and framing his face. The tunic defining his beautiful figure. Golden shackles on golden feet. The tiny tinkling anklets brush against them every time he moves, and Jungkook wonders if the sound is attuned to his heartstrings. The Crown Jewel moves like a tidal wave, back and forth, the fans flicking open and closed. He can feel his mouth falling open in awe - this is beyond dance, this is unparalleled  _ seduction _ .

Jungkook’s eyes flick to the Prince and the rest of the court in quick succession. The man sits still, but his eyes are warm, lips set in a smile. He can see the question in Namjoon’s eyes, before he even really registers it himself.  _ Why is he not a Favourite? _

The Jewel’s dark eyes meet his again, the rest of his face covered by the fan. They are expressionless - and perhaps, frighteningly enough - the most seductive part of the whole routine, as he stares him down defiantly. He curses his involuntary arousal, willing himself to remember the blade pointed at him in a secluded alley.  _ Get too close, and he’d take a piece out of you. _

He ignores the traitorous voice in his head, that adds,  _ But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? _

And then the fans start flying. Jungkook reels back, startled at the way the court throws their fans, but the spinning figure catches them all, one by one, two and three at a time. It takes him a second to process that this is part of the routine, as the courtesan spins faster and leaves a pattern of fans in his wake. The courtiers sit up - even the ones who looked at him warily earlier, watching the pattern form on the floor. Jungkook watches with bated breath, barely hearing the music come to a close, the courtesan stopping in the middle of the hall.

The pattern around him forms the crest of the Eastern City. Crown Prince Kim Taehyung’s Seal.

Jungkook barely catches Namjoon’s reaction, but the light in his eyes tells him everything. It’s one of his goddamn theories, and Jungkook groans. He’s going to have to goad it out of him later. But first - the applause. Everyone claps politely, some of the ladies and a lord or two enthusiastic in their cheers, and the courtesan -

He is looking directly at him to the point that the courtiers are already tittering.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” the Lady next to him says, in what is meant to be a whisper but comes off loud. “The Jewel knows how to entice a crowd.”

Jungkook stares at his feet, unable to meet the courtesan’s face. He doesn’t want to be responsible for that terror he had seen in them, the fear of recognition. He had worn a mask in the market, but the courtesan  _ knows _ . Maybe if he stays silent -

“Beautiful enough that our guest can’t meet his eyes,” the Prince says, and his voice is curious. “Perhaps some alone time would fix that?”

Jungkook whips his head to look at him, eyes wide. “Your Highness, I would never presume -”

“I’m the one offering, Sir Jeon.” The Crown Prince is smiling at him, and he can feel rather than see Namjoon’s worried glance from him to the royal face. “I’m sure Jimin would have no reason to reject you.”

Jimin. That’s his name. Jungkook slowly moves his head back to look at him, and the courtesan has stiffened, spine ramrod straight like an angry cat. 

The Prince doesn’t seem to see it. “Would you, my jewel?” 

“No, Your Highness.” The answer is automatic. “I am yours.”

“Then it is settled.” The Prince rises from his throne. “Today has been enlightening in many respects - shall we proceed to luncheon?”

***

Lunch is torture. The courtesans move to their own quarters, but Jimin stays. Waits behind the curtains, until the Prince takes his leave. He grabs his hand then, and the Prince sighs and lets himself be pulled into the shadows, as Jimin concentrates his magic to create a pocket of space for them both. It won’t last long, but enough for this talk.

“How could you?” he hisses. “Do you want me to kill him in his sleep? Do you want me to kill  _ you  _ in your sleep?”

“There is something about the Jeons I must know, Jimin,” he says, and Jimin stops short. “There has been unrest from the South - I’ve told you before - but some people suggest that they may be marching towards us even as we speak. I can only do so much.”

“And you would have me  _ seduce  _ him?”

“He is a fumbling virgin with no attraction towards girls, I doubt that he would be anything but intimidated by you. There are other things.” The Prince -  _ his  _ Prince, rubs his chin thoughtfully. “He knew who you were, didn’t he? Did you get trailed today?”

Jimin should’ve seen this coming. “Yes. He followed me and saw through my barrier.”

“I have no doubt he’s capable of harnessing greater magical energies provided to him in weapons, but is probably immune to most effects of magic. That also makes him a liability, as he cannot wield the elements themselves.” He looks back into the darkness, even though he can’t see the rest of the corridor. “Tonight, Jimin - go to him.”

“And if he touches me?” Jimin knows what he wants - he tamps down on the part of him that wants the soldier for this question. The Prince can always tell when he’s being evasive.

The Prince smiles, coldly. “Murder him, if it is without consent. We can explain that away - although I doubt it would come to that, from what I've heard from Namjoon. But find his secrets first. After all - we have established he is not entirely immune to you.”

Jimin lets the shadow spell fall, and the Prince’s hand is warm on his shoulder for a split second before he walks away, and into the corridors. The borrowed time for the spell catches up to him, and he gasps, clutching his chest. Magic always takes a toll on his body. It’s why he avoids it.

Looking at his best friend turn and go, his familiar back getting further and further away, Jimin wonders if it has had an adverse effect on the people he loves too.


End file.
